


The Man From Nowhere

by Anonymous



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Chance Meetings, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Epilogue, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Going on a date with Malvo means dumping a body, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Malvo seduces FeMC into killing her abusive spouse, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reader is a bit of a slut for Malvo but who isn't, Reader-Insert, Situational Humiliation, to be added soon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: An interesting man inspires you to do some rather interesting things.
Relationships: Lorne Malvo/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From the author that brought you [Varga/Reader](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26142610/chapters/63602788) no-one asked for, here's some Malvo/Reader I very much asked for. Enjoy!

“Do I look like someone who needs free food?”

You jumped, not yet sure what to make of this stranger’s imposing tone. Eyes glued to the table below, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. “Skittish, are we?”

Part of you calmly and quietly died inside as you heard him seat himself opposite you (oh, you cursed yourself now for choosing a booth, but really, who could pass up all that extra space?) and winced at the sound of his fingers drumming impatiently along the tabletop. “Well?”

“Well, I…just like to buy something small for the people who pass through here. Gives the out-of-towners a reason to come back, you know? That’s all,” You clarified, doing your best not to let your nerves show. “You looking like you need it or not has nothing to do with it.”

“How do you know I’m from out of town?”

Okay, now you were _sure_ you didn’t like his tone.

“Because I’m unfortunate enough to come here every day, and I’ve never seen you once.” You looked up then, surprised to see no hint of pity in his eyes. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much behind his eyes at all - they were simply the blackest you’d ever seen. And that dark, choppy hair did little to hide the cuts and bruises lying underneath. It wouldn’t take a genius to see that Mr. Tall, Dark and Questionably Handsome wasn’t from around here. As if catching onto you studying his appearance, he smiled at you in a way that made you want to look away.

“Well then, you must have forgotten me. But seeing how sorry you are, I’m willing to take the free food as an apology. No need to thank me.” His eyes changed then, some strange flicker of emotion passing through too quickly for you to catch it. Happy to finally have his intense attention off of you, you nodded, anything to let him be on his way that little bit quicker. Of course, you didn't _want_ to be rude, half the reason you’d started doing this was to have an easy excuse for some easy company - but the vibes he was giving off were starting to make you feel off, and frankly, you just wanted him to drink his coffee and go.

“Now why on God’s green Earth would you go along with that?” Your heart sank as he started up again. “You know I’m not from around here, we both know I’m not from around here - failing some sort of head injury, why pretend otherwise?”

“Because I’m a coward,” You answered shortly, surprising even yourself.

You hadn't meant to answer honestly, you really hadn’t, but some strange compulsion had forced it out of you anyway. It was those dark eyes, undressing you, as if they could see the countless bruises hidden underneath. You shivered, heart racing at the thought. At this point, the distinction between fear and excitement was lost on you.

You didn’t know what this man wanted, only knew that you wanted him to keep talking. When he leaned forward, got his intoxicating scent stuck in your nose, sending confusing waves of desire right into your brain - well, you could only think two things. One, you might be a little bit more of a slut than you truly gave yourself credit for, and Two, well, you thought your heart might just stop.

“You know you don’t have to be, right?”

He smiled, his dark, mirthless eyes inviting you to do the same.

“People die every day. Hit by a car. Slipped in the shower. Fell off the roof. Accidents, right? I’m telling you, it happens every day. I’ve seen it.” In the time it’d taken him to nonchalantly take a sip of coffee, your blood had run cold.

“What are you saying?”

You choked out, barely above a whisper.

“Nothing, if you don’t want me to be,” He laughed, but the sound didn’t fully reach your ears. Everyone else had disappeared, and nothing but the man in front of you remained. Drunk on his every word didn't begin to describe it.

You were transfixed, plain and simple.

“It’s just something to think about, the next time he hits you.”

\- -

His words rang fresh in your ear, pounding in your brain to the point you barely even registered the distant chime of the door, letting you know he’d taken his leave already.

You repeated them like a trance all the way home, and even as the cause of your perpetual nightmare welcomed you back with a smile on his face.

Accidents—

They happened every day, right?


	2. Chapter 2

You didn’t know what else to do, where to go, or why your shaky legs had even carried you all the way here. One wrong look, one misplaced breath and it’s all over. They’ll know, they’ll see, they’ll smell it.

**Murderer.**

One false step, one wrong move you make - and that’s what they’ll call you. Your neighbors, the kids who play just a little loud in the street, even your parents. That’s what you’ll be, and what you’ll be branded as for the rest of your life.

So you took what felt like the deepest breath of your life, willed yourself to calm the fuck down—or did your damndest to appear as close to calm as one possibly could be—placed your shaky hand on the door and gently swung it open.

That inviting atmosphere, the warmth that instantly greeted you. Even the indistinct, mindless chatter of the other patrons. Honestly, it was all such a relief to see that this place hadn’t changed a bit, even if the person inside it very much had.

There was just one problem. He wasn’t here.

_Not here, not here, not there, not anywhere—!_

You bit down on your lip, the only thing you could do to stop the onslaught of screaming you knew would be coming. Should be coming, considering what you did. What you’d done. What could never be undone.

You’d done it, and what’s more, it’d been _fun_.

Was that a hint of regret you’d seen at the end, or was it something more?

Coffee. You needed coffee, of that you were sure.

\- -

One sip. Two. A whole day had nearly passed by the time you were through.

You wanted to scream, were desperate to shout. But you had nothing, no-one, no way to let it all out. You wanted nothing more than to see him, without a shadow of a doubt.

It was the burning sensation that did it—right on the back of your neck, Hellish heat on bruised, tender flesh that snapped you back to reality, despite how badly you didn’t want to face the situation you’d found yourself in.

Help.

You wanted help, and only one man could give it to you. This perfect stranger who’d barged in and disrupted the life you’d always taken for granted, and left no sooner than he’d came.

“Payback,” He stated, pulling the coffee cup off your skin and along with him as he invited himself to sit down alongside you, right in front of you, never beside you. You blinked once, twice, and by the third time he was snapping his fingers in front of you.

“For last time, remember? You seemed like the type to drink it black.”

Snatching it out of his hands, you downed it back, craving that sensation once again. The joy of absolution, making your mind go blank; erasing that filthy feeling of guilt that creeped into your bones every-time you talked, heard him talking inside your head.

He smiled as he watched you. You didn’t care why. “I knew you’d be the type to take a little bit of pain. Or a whole lot of it, in your case. If you want it, why, all you have to do is ask. I’m sure there’s a hundred men or more who’d be happy to give it to you. And more than a hundred different ways to deliver it.”

“Right now, for example,” You hissed as his foot came crashing into yours, pushing down hard. “You can’t even tell me to stop, can you?”

He grinned as you looked away, illuminating those soulless eyes of his, ever intensifying the pressure—fearing he might dig the heel of his shoe in and break through the skin. Biting back blood every time you walk. Dripping red through the snow on your way back to an empty place, no longer a home.

“Look at me; I’m humiliating you out in the open, inside the comfy little cafe you use to get away from it all. These familiar faces, the little booths you use to hole yourself up in? Now you’ll never feel safe in here again. Yet you still can’t push me away?”

You stared on in silence, counting each spiral engraved in the table. You couldn’t say anything. Every ugly word he’d spoken doubled as the truth.

“Well, I’ll be taking my leave, then. I have no time to spare for cowards.”

“Can a coward kill?”

You’d blurted it out without a second thought. Dumbass. Dumbass! “It’s a question! Just a question, nothing more, nothing less.”

Right. Like he’d buy that.

He simply raised an eyebrow, dark eyes glimmering, lit up by his evidently piqued interest.

This was it. Do or die.

You had to get him to follow you.

You had to get him alone.

“You can come back to my place,” You offered, voice only slightly shaking. “I’ll show you I’m no coward.” Tucking a stray strand of hair neatly behind your ear, you positioned the one foot that wasn’t pinned down atop of his, pressing down lightly, experimentally. “Not anymore.”

Smiling, you got up and slowly made your way towards the door. You could only hope and pray he’d follow suit and do the same.


	3. Chapter 3

“I must say, I _love_ what you’ve done with the place. You host one hell of a party, huh?”

You ignored the growing ire at the amused voice echoing down the hallway, commenting on the obvious signs of a struggle. “Well, what can I say? Some guests just don’t know when to leave.” You sucked in a breath, just small enough not to be heard, ignoring every warning sign demanding you not to get any closer to this walking curse of a man. The way he carelessly stepped over your belongings strewn about the floor was one thing, that nasty glint in his eye was another.

“Speaking of which,” You piped up, leaving no room for a reply. “How about you go and wash up? Please, feel free to make yourself more at home than you already have.”

Having practically dragged this nameless man into your bathroom while he went limp and played dead in your grasp, wearing that irritating fucking smirk all the while, you felt a strange surge of pride at seeing him shut the fuck up. His eyes were scanning the scrubbed tiles, checking the floor for any missed speck of blood, examining the rush job you’d made of stuffing the lifeless body of someone you used to love into the tub. After what felt like an eternity of judged silence, he finally looked at you, _really_ looked at you long enough to break it.

“You’re not going to blame this on me now, are you?”

“Course’ not,” You scoffed, turning your face away from his eagle-eyed sight. “This was inevitable. An overdue mistake, or what one like yourself might call, a tragic accident. They happen every day, don’t they?” Smiling, you turned your gaze towards the tiled floor. The shine was still so clean, you could see yourself in the reflection.

Funny, then, how it didn’t really feel like ‘you’ anymore. Something old, something beautiful, someone battered, beaten blue. Someone brand new.

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it tragic,” He readily offered up a view you hadn’t asked him for, moving just close enough to put you on edge again. “Just mundane.”

And just like that, the urge to kill rose within you for the second time that day.

“Amazing, isn’t it,” You murmured. “What just a little dose of perspective can do for you. I should be thanking you, really. Hey, Mister—”

“Malvo,” He corrected, and you wondered why it hadn’t seemed the least bit strange that this man hadn’t given you so much as his name until now.

“Well then, Malvo. You help me finish what I started here and you’re welcome to take whatever you want. What d’you say? Partners?” You held your hand out to meet his, hoping he’d let the nervous shaking slide by this time.

Grabbing your wrist, twisting it so hard you thought it might break, shoving you head-first into the adjacent wall with your hands pulled tight behind your back—

“I’d say you better start working on giving yourself a damn good alibi. Grab him up by the feet and give me the keys. I’ll start the car.”

Came the only source of hope you were going to get out of this awful, enigmatic Bastard of a man.


	4. Chapter 4

The car ride was silent, save for the distant rumbling of the engine. Any attempt at small talk had been met with a distinct look of disdain, and after that incident in the bathroom, you were loathe to wind him up anymore.

You simply stared straight ahead, gripped onto the steering wheel until your knuckles went white and silently followed his instructions to a T. You didn’t dare complain, not even when he lit up a cigarette inside your car, kept the windows closed and dumped his ashes straight onto the floor. Ignoring the ‘accidental’ brushes of his gloved hands against your thigh while driving proved much harder, however, and for all the wrong reasons. You needed his help now more than ever, you couldn’t possibly push him away…and that thought excited you, just a little bit more than it should have. It was so, so much harder than it should have been to keep an eye on the road, and not transfixed to the perfect stranger next to you. His dark, lifeless eyes had lit a fire up inside you, one you were scared of, one you didn’t fully understand.

You were far away enough from civilization now that the sleepy town you’d left behind now felt like some sort of half-crazed fever dream, like you’d come this far only to lose your way and never return.

“It’s here,” A cold, deadpan voice announced, making you stop the car.

He stepped out ahead of you, making sure to needlessly slam the door shut on his way out. “Ahh, the old body in the trunk. No matter how long I do this, it never gets old. A classic, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know if I’m in any mood to appreciate the classics,” You muttered, looking down at your snow covered shoes instead.

“Oh, come on! Smile—” And his hand was in your hair before you could stop it, leading you along by the scalp. “At least be glad it’s not you in there.”

You couldn’t feel much of anything at this point in time, not even as he popped the trunk open and had you come face to face with the crime you’d committed. Any sense of bravado or satisfaction was long gone, replaced instead by a quiet kind of emptiness you took some comfort in, nonetheless.

“No love lost between you, I trust? Any last regrets? Need me to give you two a moment alone…Y’know, really give you a good chance to say goodbye?”

Ignoring this asshole’s snarky commentary with a bit lip and a cheek full of blood, you gave him a half-hearted “I’m good,” in reply, grabbed your end of the body and started moving.

“Just drop him by the edge of the lake when you’re done.” Malvo helpfully offered, not actually helping you do any of the heavy lifting at all. “I’ll go on ahead and crack the ice to dump him in.”

Well, finally. That was something.

“You sure he’ll sink?” You asked, not exactly well-versed in the polite practices of hiding a body. The look he shot in reply you made you wish you’d never said a damn thing.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been doing this a long time. Longer than you’ve been alive, and I’ll keep doing it long after you’ve died. If I wanted to stand here in the snow and answer stupid questions, I’d have brought your severed head along with me instead.”

You shuddered at his words, left with no knowledge as to whether or not that was just another one of his off-colour jokes, or a thinly veiled threat of things to come. Ignoring the pain tearing through your arms, you kept pulling, drawing strength from wherever you could still find it. Remember the black eye, that time you fell down the stairs, what a walking embarrassment you were to his parents and everyone unfortunate enough to know you. Looking down at his pale, slightly blue face, it’d seem he was the unfortunate one now.

True to his word, as soon as you made it to the edge of the lake, this man you’d come to know in the most unfavourable of all circumstances kept his end of the bargain. You didn’t feel much, except maybe mild excitement at seeing a body dragged across ice with such relative ease, like he’d done it a thousand times.

“I’m not sorry—!” You yelled into the wind as snow rained down from above you, the only sound that registered being one loud, resounding splash, that finally carried the last of your guilt away. You hoped your feelings would sink alongside him, drown amongst those icy depths, never to resurface again.

Malvo didn’t seem much different when he came back, only that he grabbed your hand and forced you to walk alongside him, and you followed blindly. His smile was somehow more unsettling than it’d ever been before, and an instant feeling of dread rose up inside you. “So then,” He stalled, clearly enjoying your discomfort, like he took a personal pride in watching you squirm. “There’s just the matter of my payment.”

“Right, of course, whatever you want, just as soon as I get back—”

“But I’d like it now.”

You swallowed, trying not to throw up at his feet. “I’m sorry?”

“My payment,” He repeated coolly, as calm as he’d ever been. “I’d like to take it now.”

In hindsight, you should have ran. You should have let him catch you. You should have let him kill you.

Surely that would have been a better outcome, a kinder reality than the one you were stuck in, pants yanked down around your ankles, completely exposed to both the elements and the monster pressing himself up behind you. A short, sharp slap made you cry out, bringing back pain you thought you’d long since forgotten. You were supposed to be above it all, above this.

His nails dug in, scratching red rivers into your skin. You hissed, trying to brace yourself, and failing miserably. Back arched, his frozen hands made their way inside your shirt, teasing and groping at whatever they could. He pulled on your nipples to the point of tears, until you were sure you’d scream. But the moans that leaked out of your mouth sounded nothing of the sort, and your hips delighting in the feeling of his hard length grinding against you did little to dissuade him from stopping, either. The true torture was that he wasn’t inside you already.

No, no, no. You couldn’t think like that. Not about this. Not about him.

You tried to pull away, you really did—But there was simply nowhere to go, and no-one to hear you cry. His fingers dug in once again, hands slipping much closer to a place you found yourself wishing he both would and wouldn’t dare touch.

“Say, that body dumping help get you off, or was it all thanks to me?”

His words cut deeper than any knife could, shame washing over you in waves.

You couldn’t feel anything anymore, except the dim warmth of his fingers inside you. Every breath you took was laboured, shrouded in the frosty mist surrounding you, suffocating with the full force of his weight pushing down on you. If he had a heart, you certainly couldn’t feel it beating. Only your own chest was being crushed against the roof of the car, making you shudder, and suddenly sickeningly grateful for the small amount of shelter and warmth this man’s back provided. You gasped for air as you felt him moving, shocked at how much pain each icy breath cost you. It was almost enough to make you beg for him to fuck you _inside_ the car instead. Almost.

“Please,” You spluttered, surprised you still had the strength to speak. “I’m not worth it, Mister, I’m really not—”

“Malvo,” He growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to make you moan. The last of your strength left you as he suddenly pulled out, leaving you to crumble and fall face-first into the iced over hood below. Without a moment’s warning he thrust back inside, timed practically to perfection with the moment your face connected with and slammed against hard, cold metal, creating an audible smack that reverberated for miles around. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak with your cheek damn near frozen to the front of your own car—You could only lie helplessly and watch as pain turned to pleasure, knowing that you didn’t want this, _couldn’t_ want this, and hating that some small, sick part of you really, truly did. Wanted his murderous hands on you, all over you, needed his ridiculously huge, painful cock to fuck you up some more, ruin you, make sure you could never be loved, touched or fucked by anyone else again.

Because you needed this, needed him, and right now, he needed you. It felt like your back would snap with the force he was fucking you at, hard enough to make the inside of this stupid, empty car shake. His grip, thrusts and sounds were nothing short of beastly, holding you down and continually fucking into you until you were sure both your mind and body would damn near break. If this was ‘payment’, he was taking it tenfold. No-one had ever fucked you like this, not even in your wildest dreams. That dull ache, the length and girth of his cock threatening to split you apart as he slammed into you over and over again, trapped in this snowish hell of being pinned between the car, feeling your fingertips freeze over, and stuck underneath him—It was too much, much too much for any sane person to bear.

It’s a good thing there wasn’t any sane person here.

When you thought that the pain of this man stirring up your insides was the same pain you’d dealt each time you’d stabbed in and out of that warm corpse of flesh, it made you want to moan. Pain, pleasure, none of it really mattered anymore. You sighed in relief as your knees finally buckled under the pressure of keeping yourself upright, content to be fucked into an utterly useless, slumped over lifeless mess.

“Oh no,” A taunting voice resounded behind you. “You don’t get to tap out yet.”

**Thud.**

**Thud.**

**Thud.**

Over and over again,

That strange sound.

It’s only when those little drops of red pooled around your nose that you realized it might have something to do with you. Hand wrapped tight in your hair, as though it were gripping at your skull—Pulled back, and then— _Slammed_ into surface below, making your vision go white and your mind just as blank.

“No…more…” You begged to anyone that might hear it, that might show mercy.

“Oh, _more_? You want more? Well shucks, if you say so. Be my guest!”

That cruel, mocking, faux Minnesota accent was the last sound you heard before the world went dark, dissolving into nothingness right before your eyes.

You got the feeling that you wouldn’t forget it, not for a long, long old time.


End file.
